Anticipation of my impending emancipation kept me awake for at least three more hours until, finally, I...well I really wouldn't call it falling asleep, it was more like passing out...
...but I awoke several hours later with a jolt, horrified...
...realizing that, overwhelmed by excitement and exhaustion, I'd forgotten to set my alarm! Whipping my head to the right, I glanced, frantically, over at my clock.
3:37 a.m...
...and then fell back against the pillow, relieved; I had just enough time to get myself-and Sam-ready. A minute later, I opened my bedroom door to complete silence, which continued as I walked down the hall and into the bathroom; but as I stepped into the shower, I noticed that the tub was wet...
...which meant that Grandad was already up and dressed.
Suddenly remembering that Sam's clothes still needed to be dried, I washed and toweled off as quickly as I could, dressed hastily, and then walked back out of my room, intending to wake her up before taking care of her laundry; but as I entered the living room...
...I found that, not only was Sam awake...
...she was wide awake...
...and sitting on the couch, dressed in the same outfit she'd worn yesterday; with damp hair, an eager smile, and her backpack at her feet...
...100% ready to leave. Sam getting up-voluntarily, at such an ungodly hour, was completely unprecedented; and, after recovering from my astonishment, I walked toward her and asked, "You already put your clothes in the dryer?"
She looked up at me, puzzled.
"No, I thought you did, because when I woke up, I found them already dried and folded...right there," she answered, gesturing toward the coffee table.
"Did you hear Grandad at all?" I asked. "Is that what woke you?"
She shook her head.
"No, I woke up on my own; but I noticed that his bedroom door was closed when I went into the bathroom...and when I came out," she replied.
I stood there, straining my ears, but didn't hear anything, so I glanced at my watch, saying, "I'm surprised he's not out here by now; he usually has a really early breakfast when he's planning to be out of town for the day...well, in this case, for part of the day."
"Maybe he dried my clothes before he went to bed," Sam suggested, "and he's not awake yet."
I shook my head.
"I doubt that."
"He might be, Carls," she replied. After what Mrs. L. put him through yesterday he was probably so wiped him out, both physically and emotionally, that he overslept."
I looked at my watch again, then stated, "I...don't think so, but then again, he should have been out here by now, so I guess it wouldn't hurt to check."
She nodded, and I turned in the direction of the hallway...
...but seconds later, I found myself turning back away from it...
...and looking down, once again, at Sam...
...who was still sitting there, looking up at me...
...her eyes saying a hundred different things...as clearly as if she'd spoken them aloud...
...and, suddenly, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to fall down beside her onto the couch, and hold her...
...while kissing every inch of her that I could reach...
...until Grandad emerged from his bedroom and caught us...
...and I shook my head vigorously to clear that scenario from it! Anyway, only a few hours from now, Sam and I would be kissing...
...and so much more...
...back in Seattle, back in my-no, in our home...
...and so, I willingly walked away from the couch-and from her-and headed down the hall to Grandad's bedroom...
...where I stood outside the closed door, listening intently.
Silence.
Maybe Sam was right; maybe, due to yesterday's ordeal, he hadn't woken up...
...but it was getting very near to 5 a.m., so I knocked.
No answer.
I knocked again.
Still, only silence, and now I was beginning to worry; what if something had...happened? Aside from his bum knee, Grandad was in pretty good physical shape, but what if Mrs. L. had devastated him so badly that he'd had a heart attack...or, I thought with a gasp...what if he...what if he...had...
I couldn't bring myself to finish that sentence, not even in my head...
...but, as horrible as that scenario might be, I realized that I needed to know...
...immediately...
...and, bracing myself for the worst, I grabbed onto the doorknob with a badly-shaking hand...
and, fully expecting to freak out at what I might find, I slowly swung the door open and then...
...holding my breath, I flipped the light switch on and looked inside.
Empty.
The room was completely empty.
His bed was-as always-neatly made, and the rectangular leather valet tray on his dresser (into which he places all his personal items when emptying his pockets every evening) was empty, too...
...and, suddenly, I got a horrible sense of foreboding.
"S-sam?" I called up the hall.
"Yeah?"
"He...he's not here; is he...in the kitchen?"
"The light's off in there, but I'll check anyway," she replied, and I heard her getting up off the couch.
"No, Carls, he's not there," she answered a minute later, joining me in the hall.
"I've...got a very bad feeling about this," I announced.
She smiled reassuringly, and said, "Come on, there has to be an explanation for-hey! I'll bet I know where he is! Didn't you say that you didn't finish the attic yesterday?"
"There's no way anyone could have," I confirmed, "it's a week-long job, at least."
"Well there you go, Kid, he's upstairs right now, looking to see what you got done yesterday."
"Well..." I answered doubtfully.
"Wait here, I'll go check for you," she offered, heading quickly over to the staircase and then running it up, while I glanced nervously at my watch again.
Seconds later, I heard Sam's footsteps overhead, running all around the room, and I knew that she was searching for Grandad everywhere, behind every piece of furniture, behind every pile of junk.
Less than a minute later, she was standing beside me again.
"He's not up there, either...wait, I know! He's in the basement!" she exclaimed.
"Huh? What would he be doing down there?"
After contemplating the question for a long moment, she answered, "Uh, well, now that you're going home I'm sure he realizes that he's going to have to finish the attic himself...and he probably figures that, while he's at it, he might as well make a clean sweep of things and do the basement, too. How do you get downstairs?"
"Come on, I'll show you," I said, unconvinced; still, I led her out of the hallway, into the kitchen, and over to the basement door.
The basement, unlike the attic, was relatively uncluttered, and a fast glance around it confirmed what I already suspected: Grandad wasn't down here, either.
We ascended the stairs, and now I was more than a little worried. It was five minutes 'til five and Grandad, who's always infuriatingly-early for everything, was nowhere to be found. With Sam's help, I checked every other room, but upon finding them all to be empty, I was forced to conclude that he just wasn't in the house...and there was no way he could be in the yard, tending the garden, since it was still dark outside. Finally, walking out of the laundry room and shutting the door behind me, I turned to Sam.
"He's not here!"
"I see that," she replied.
"Sam, I'm really worried about-"
"It's okay, Carls."
No, it's not!" I lamented. "It's now two minutes past five!
"Come on," she said, laying a hand on my shoulder, "it's fine. I'm sure he'll be here any minute, so let's go get your bags."
Unbelieving, I followed her into the bedroom.
Sam extended the handles of both my suitcases, and then held one of them out to me.
"Here. Have you looked your stuff over, to make sure you didn't forget anything?"
Now way past anxious, I merely nodded.
With what I'm sure was meant to be a reassuring smile, she wheeled my other bag out of the bedroom and into the hall, while I followed.
I'd taken no more than three steps, when I stopped and checked my watch...yet again.
"It's five past five! He's never late like this!"
She stopped walking and, turning around, she answered with a smile, "Look, I want to get on the road, too, but-"
"That's not what I meant...Sam, where is he?"
Just then, she let go of my suitcase handle for a moment, and the bag tipped over. While bending down to retrieve it, she said, off-handedly, "I don't know...probably over at Mrs. L's house, on his knees, begging her to take him bac-"
She stopped speaking as, straightening back up, she looked over at me...
...immediately realizing, as she did, that she'd just said the worst possible thing...
...because one look at my face told her, with absolute certainty, that I was only seconds away from having a freak attack.
"Oh, God! Oh, my God! That's where he is!" I yelled.
"It's fine, Cupcake;" she replied, "I'm sure he'll be back any second."
"No, Sam! Don't you realize what's happening...and what's going to happen?"
"Yes," she answered confidently. He's going to come back, any minute now, and take us back home to Seat-"
"No!" I shouted. "He's over there, right now, at her place! Didn't you hear him mention my name while he was on the phone with her last night? They've been talking about me going back to Seattle...and now she's taking him back and she's talking him out of it! That's the reason he's not here!"
"But, Carls-"
"It's now seven past five, and he's never, ever late for anything! Him not being here on time proves that he's changed his mind! He's not going to take me home after all!" I wailed.
"Carls, calm down. I'm sure that's not true."
"It is true! Now that he's had a chance to think things over, he realizes that he made a hasty decision yesterday, and now she's...and now he's-"
"Carls, calm down!"
"I can't! He's going to keep me here...and send you away...and-"
"He won't. I know he won't," she said with conviction...
...but, far from convinced, I shouted, "Yes, he will! He's going to take me away from you again!"
"That's not going to hap-" she began.
"Sam! I don't want you to-don't ever leave me!" I sobbed, lunging forward and throwing my arms around her neck.
"Shh..." she whispered...
...while I held onto her as tightly as I could...
...blinking back hot tears...
...trying my hardest not to fall apart completely...
...and wishing that she'd pull me close to her...
...but, instead, I felt her hands on my shoulders.
Gently moving my body away from her own, she looked directly into my eyes and said, "Shh, calm down. I'm sure there's a logical reason why he's not here yet...wait! I know! He went to get gas!"
"T-this early?" I said, trying to regain control of my shaking body.
"Why not?" she asked. "We have a long trip ahead of us."
"But...w-why wouldn't he just take us with him...and then buy gas once we're already on the road?"
"W-well...I'm not really sure," she admitted.
"I'm so scared! He's going to-Sam, I don't want you to leave me agai-"
At that moment, Sam looked away from me...
...and seconds later, I knew why; because I, too, heard a car motor coming the up driveway.
Less than a minute later, I heard a car door slam...
...and Sam turned back to me, wearing a broad smile.
"See?" she said triumphantly, "I told you he went to get gas! He's probably a few minutes late because, since it's such a long way to Seattle, he asked them to check the oil, too," she concluded, forgetting my suitcase and running up the hallway.
Bending down, I grabbed both bags and, dragging them behind me, wheeled them up the hall, following her as quickly as I could.
Just as I entered the living room, Sam had reached the front door, and was eagerly flinging it open...
...and, as she did, I looked past her left shoulder...
...and saw, not Grandad standing at the top of the steps...
...but a tall, dark-haired, middle-aged man, slightly balding, slightly graying at the temples, neatly dressed in a white dress shirt and gray pants.
Looking directly at Sam, he asked, "Carly Shay?"
Seconds later, Sam recovered from her surprise and answered, "No, she's Carly" stepping aside, and gesturing over at me.
Dropping my bags, I ran forward and gasped, "Where's my Grandad? Did something h-h-happen to-"
"May I come in?" he asked.
Immediately and worriedly, I staggered backwards two steps, allowing him to cross the threshold; and, extending his right arm this man-whoever he was-handed me a sealed envelope...
...and right away I recognized Grandad's personal stationery...
...and, as I ripped it open, apprehensively, Sam glanced over my shoulder.
"What's that?"
"I d-don't know," I answered, unfolding the single sheet of cream-colored letterhead with shaking hands.
She moved closer still and, as she did, I felt her the right side of her chest press firmly against my back...
...and on any other occasion I'd have been thrilled at the sensation, but, seconds later, I was ignoring it...
...as I looked down at Grandad's neat, navy blue monogram...
...and at what was written beneath it.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I read, aloud:
Unable to drive you today. Rick Bartholomew, of Yakima Cab Service, will be taking you, instead. Check his ID.
I looked up to see Rick pulling his driver's license from his wallet.
He checked out.
"Wh-what's going on?" I asked him. "Is my grandad okay?"
"Yes," he answered simply.
"Well, where is he then?"
"He never mentioned his plans for today," Rick replied.
"Well, then, what about-"
Suddenly, I felt Sam's hand on my arm.
"Carls, don't you think we should head out now, and ask questions later?" she said...
...and, even though I was anxious to know what was had happened with Grandad, I nodded.
Rick leaned down and picked one of my suitcases up, then reached for the other.
"It's okay; I've got this one," Sam said, grabbing it quickly. With a nod, he turned and wheeled my bag out onto the front porch, with her right behind him...
...and, momentarily forgetting my concern over Grandad...
...because of how thrilled I was to be, at last, escaping from this dungeon of perpetual torture, I followed her eagerly.
As she was crossing the threshold, she looked back at me over her shoulder and whispered, "I hope this taxi doesn't reek of cigar smoke and sardines, the way my Uncle Dominic's does-oh my God!"
She'd come to a halt so suddenly that I slammed directly into her back, knocking the wind out of us both.
"Oh...my...God, Carls!" she repeated, breathlessly...
...while I, gasping for breath myself, and now standing half in-half out of the doorway, leaned to my right, looked over her shoulder, and froze...
...stunned speechless to see a long, midnight blue limousine sitting in the driveway.
"Is this...some kind of joke?" Sam asked me, then, without waiting for an answer, she rushed off the front porch and over to where it was parked.
Instead of answering (because I didn't have one), I ran up behind her...
...around to its back end, where Rick was now standing. He had loaded one bag into the trunk and, as he reached over to take my other one from Sam, I blurted out, "You're a...a limo driver?"
At this outburst, he immediately looked down at his pants and open-collared shirt, then up at me, and there was an unmistakeable undercurrent of guilt in his voice as he answered, "I...I'm sorry. My jacket and tie are in the car...I'll put them on right away. It's just...it's such a hot day that-"
"No...it's fine," I answered quickly. "We don't mind...I just wasn't expecting...just make yourself comfortable."
He thanked me, then closed the trunk lid, walked around to the passenger side of the car, and opened the door...
...and Sam, without hesitation, scrambled inside.
Within seconds, I had, too, sinking deeply into the padded, tan leather upholstery as I sat down next to her.
A minute later, Rick was pulling away from the curb...
...but I'd already decided that I was not going to be looking back; so instead, I turned to Sam, whispering, "I...I can't believe we're going home in a limo!"
"Yeah," she replied, equally disbelieving, "who knew that anyone would ever be able to actually find a limo in this pathetic, one horse town!"
"That's not what I meant...and stop that!" I demanded, because she'd just stretched her legs out, resting her feet on the low table that was in front of us.
"But, it's so comfortable!" she protested.
I shot her The Look.
"Okay, okay...spoilsport!" she grumbled, setting them back down on the floor.
Less than a minute later, however, I knew that I'd been forgiven, because she turned back toward me...
...wearing her most disarming smile...the one that always makes me feel weak...
...and warm...
...and...
...and...
...and suddenly, the limo turned a corner. Looking away from Sam and out the window, I saw that we had turned onto Yakima's main shopping street...
...but seconds later, I was looking back at Sam...
...who was still smiling at me, in that incredible way...
...while I sat, staring back at her...
...elated that she was sitting right next to me...
...and that we were finally going home...
...and that her left knee was now pressed up against my right one...
...and, at that moment, I realized that I wanted to hold her...so badly! To feel her entire body pressed up against mine...
...while also realizing that I hadn't even kissed her properly for...God, I forget how many weeks! And that's what I wanted to do, right then and there: to kiss her...
...and to have her kiss me back...while wrapping her arms around me, and holding me as close to her as she possibly can...
...and then, to pull back and smile at her as I whisper, "I love you, and I've missed you so much..."
...and then to push her down, ever-so-gently, onto her back...
...and to climb up onto the seat, and lie on top of her...
...and to continue kissing her, until neither one of us can wait another second...
...and then to pull back once more, and to look deeply into her eyes...
...while I balance myself on one hand, and my other one moves lower...
...and to hear her whisper, "Yes...oh, please!" as it comes to rest on top of her khaki shorts...
...and to unbutton-and then unzip them for her...
...and ease them slowly down, past her hips...
...and then, to pull her boxers down, too...
...all the way down to her knees...
...and then, to whisper how good she's about to feel...
...as I gently spread her legs apart...
...and to hear her gasp as I slide my hand down between them...
...and then upward...
...and...
...and...
...and what the hell am I thinking? This driver works for a limo company in Yakima! Surely he (like everyone else in this miniscule town) knows my grandad!
And if Grandad ever found out that I had-
I couldn't even bring myself to finish that sentence.
Anyway, even at that young age I'd heard stories about celebrities going 'wild and crazy' in the back seats of limousines...
...I hadn't, however, heard that limos usually come equipped with privacy panels...
...and so, coming to my senses, I quickly shifted my gaze down at my feet, hoping that my eyes, which Sam had been looking into for the last few minutes, hadn't betrayed what I'd just been thinking abou-Oh, God!
Suddenly, I flinched sharply...
...because Sam had just reached over and taken my hand...
...quite possibly because she realized what I was thinking...
...and maybe even because she was thinking the same thing...
...but whether she was or not didn't matter...
...because, at that moment, as much as I didn't want to, I knew what I had to do. And so, breathing and blushing hard, due to both fantasy and fear, I gave her hand a squeeze, and then released it...
...and then, heart sinking, I reluctantly-yet resignedly-slid off the seat, maneuvered my way around the table which was in the middle of the floor, and sat down on the seat in the opposite side of the limo...
...directly across from where Sam still sat...
...fearful that, if I hadn't, we'd almost certainly have done something that we'd eventually end up regretting.
Apprehensively, I raised my eyes to hers...
...to see her staring back at me, looking, not hurt, thank God, but puzzled...
...and realizing that I owed her an explanation, I leaned forward and whispered, "I'm sorry...it's just that he...he might know Grandad, and I don't ever want him to find out about us...ever-but don't worry, we'll be home soon, and then, I promise you that we can...no that we will-"
"It's okay, Carls; I-"
What she meant to say, I never found out...
...because at that moment we both were distracted...
...by the sound of her stomach growling...loudly; and seconds later, her eyes left mine and began darting rapidly all around the back of the limo. After nearly a minute, she sighed audibly, and then, after sliding her way up to the front of the car, she leaned the entire top half of her body over the front seat and asked, "Hey, Rick, do you have anything to drink in here?"
I saw him smile at her, via the rearview mirror.
"Bit early for cocktails, don't you think?" he teased.
"No, what I meant is...don't limos sometimes have a stash of soda?" she replied.
"Sam," I cut in, "I'm really sorry; I should have grabbed juice-and some snacks-before we left the house this morning."
"No, I usually don't set the bar up this early, so there isn't any soda," Rick said, directing his answer to Sam, "but I can think of something even better."
"What?" she asked...
...and, taking his right hand off the wheel, Rick pointed silently through the front window...
...to a spot about a block away...
...and, seconds later, Sam broke into a wide smile...
...as the limo pulled over...
...stopping directly in front of Oliver's, Yakima's only 24-hour restaurant, where one of the cashiers was standing at the curb...
...holding a huge shopping bag.
Rick hopped out of the car, took the bag from the lady, and then opened the door on Sam's side of the limo and leaned in.
"Here's your breakfast," he said, setting the bag on the table, then, looking over at me, he added "I'll have it set up for you in a couple of minutes."
I, however, was eager to get back on the road, and to put as many miles between myself and this awful town, as quickly as I could.
"That's okay; I'll take care of it mysel-oh, never mind," I said...
...because Sam was now ripping into the bag at lightning speed, pulling endless take-out containers from it.
"Yes! Oh, yes...Carls, check this out!" she exclaimed, while opening each one.
"Well then, I'll leave you ladies to it. Bon Apetit," Rick said, climbing out of the back seat and closing the door, then pulling back out into traffic...
...as I, now ravenously hungry myself, joined Sam in devouring our broccoli & cheddar omelets, bacon, home fries, scones, orange juice, and milk.
Sam tore through breakfast with her usual gusto...
...while I sat watching her, totally content, except for one thing: I had been sending her money for food...
...so why was she still so thin?
"Sam?"
Mouth full, she looked up at me questioningly...
...and I asked, "You have been eating lately...haven't you?"
Suddenly, her expression changed...
...from one of blissful elation to one of guilt...
...and, dropping her eyes to her plate, she mumbled, "Uh, I guess," in a very small voice...
...and, within seconds, I understood what had happened.
Not wanting to sound accusatory, I asked gently, "Have you been...I mean, I was just wondering-since you're still so-is it...is it...have you started saving for school?"
Looking back at me apprehensively (obviously expecting to be off), she nodded slowly.
"No, honey, it's fine!" I said, reading her mind, then asked, "How much do you have so far?"
Looking relieved that I wasn't upset with her, she answered, "Almost fifty bucks."
At this, I nodded-approvingly and reassuringly-but still, I was dismayed at this information...
...because it meant that she must have been subsisting on nothing but canned soup and cold cereal...and not frequently enough at that...
...but still, I smiled at her-warmly and encouragingly-because I now realized that this was no longer going to be a problem. Now that the two of us were together again, I'd make sure to get Sam right back on her regular feeding schedule...and to make sure that, as always, the refrigerator of our apartment was full at all times...so I'd have her weight back up in no time! Eager to get started on her recovery, I decided right then and there that, as soon as we got home, I'd order enough takeout to get us through the rest of the day (and night), and then, tomorrow morning, first thing...no, wait...second thing (hee-hee) we'd go grocery shopping...
...buying so much food that we'd need to take a taxi home.
Now that my strategy had been carefully laid out, I leaned back against my seat, satisfied, watching Sam, who was digging deeply in the bottom of the shopping bag, making sure she hadn't missed anything...
...which meant that she still was hungry, so I handed her the other half of my chocolate chip muffin. She nodded her thanks, devoured it, then sank back against her own seat in contentment.
"Sam? I was wondering...what do you think all this is about? Why didn't Grandad drive us home himself?" I asked.
She looked thoughtful for a moment, then answered, "Well, Cupcake, I have to admit that you may have been right. Maybe he really is over at the old bat's house."
"But, still...sending us home in a limo?" I persisted. "What do you make of that?"
She was silent for a long moment.
"Uh, well...maybe he figured that we'd be less likely to be...molested by a limo company employee than by an independent taxi driver," she answered...
...while doing her best to stifle a long yawn.
I looked over at her sympathetically, asking, "Didn't you get much sleep last night?"
She shook her head.
"Hardly any...what about you?"
"Not much," I admitted, "I was way too busy thinking about getting the hell out of...well, anyway, why don't we both take a nap?"
"You don't mind?" she asked.
"Why should I?"
"Well, it seemed like...I thought you wanted to talk," she replied.
"It's okay," I assured her, "We both need sleep right now, and we're going to have lots of time to talk later. Besides, we have a long drive ahead of us, so it'll make the time go faster."
At this, she nodded in agreement...
...and I slid along my seat, up to the front of the car.
"Rick, Sam and I are going to take a nap...so will you please wake us up when we get there?"
"Of course," he answered, and I returned to where I'd been sitting, and said to Sam, "Roll your window down a bit; it still smells like breakfast back here."
She did and, after I'd done the same, I stretched out on my seat, while Sam lay down on hers...
...and, after getting comfortable, I looked across at her and smiled...
...but she didn't notice.
Her eyes were already closed...
...and still smiling, I closed mine, too, realizing, to my utter joy, as I did...
...that the next time she fell asleep, it would be in my arms.
After all that I'd been through the previous day-both physical and emotional-not to mention having been up for most of the night, I slept like a rock...losing all track of the passage of time...until, suddenly, I was awakened by the sound of loud screeching...
...and, without opening my eyes, I smiled. Aah, it's so good to be back in Seattle, with its crazy drivers...its fantastic restaurants...its...
...my reminiscing was cut short by even more screeching, now longer, more drawn out, and coming from more than one source, and I frowned. Rush-hour traffic must really be fierce, I surmised...
...but I was soon distracted from this thought...because I was sniffing the air...
...which smelled absolutely nothing like Seattle's...
...and I opened my eyes quickly...
...to see Sam, sitting up, staring out the window, with her mouth hanging open.
"Carls! Carls, get up!" she urged.
Struggling into a seated position, I looked out my own window, and then gasped...
...as I saw the five or six seagulls hovering just outside it...
...and the Pacific ocean in the background...
...and the huge Welcome To Ocean Shores sign that was posted on the side of the street, less than a block away...
...and I quickly slid up my seat toward the front of the limo.
"Rick! There's been a mistake!" I exclaimed. "We live in Seattle, not here!"
Not taking his eyes off the road, he fumbled around on the seat beside him, grabbed a clipboard, glanced at it quickly, and then shook his head, stating, "It says right here: Ordered by Mr. Everett Shay...2 passengers...from Yakima to Ocean Shores...with breakfast en route."
"But...but..." I managed to splutter.
"Didn't your grandad tell you anything about this, Carls?" Sam asked...
...and, whipping my around to face her, I exclaimed, "Of course not! I mean, I did mention to him once that I'd love to come back here, but-"
"Well then," Sam replied, as I slid back to where I'd been sitting, "let's just find some place to stash your bags, and we'll enjoy the whole day here, and then we can catch a bus back home tonigh-"
Suddenly, I gasped, as another thought occurred to me...
...one that I hadn't considered before...
...and, turning to Rick again, I said, "Uh, I'm not sure I have enough money to pay you, so-"
Before I'd even finished the sentence, he pulled the limo over to the curb, and turned around in his seat to face me.
"You don't have enough money to pay me?" he asked, as his eyebrows shot up.
"I...I'm going to!" I interjected. "Honest! Sam and I aren't...deadbeats or anything! It's just that...I was going to ask you to let us off in front of a bank...or some other place with an ATM...and then, right away, I promise I'll-"
Rick held his hand up.
"That's not necessary," he replied. "I thought you knew...your fare's already paid for...in full...as is your accommodation."
"Wh-what do you mean...our accommodation?" I asked.
At this, Rick gestured out the passenger side window of the car...
...and, looking toward where he was pointing, I found myself too breathless to even gasp...
...as I noticed, for the first time, where we had stopped: Directly in front of the Cambridge Arms...
...Ocean Shore's oldest, largest, and most opulent hotel!
I quickly turned back toward Rick, now with a hundred questions...
...the first of which was, "This is a joke, right?" but he was no longer sitting in the driver's seat...
...he was, instead, standing just outside my door, which he was now holding open for me.
Thoroughly dazed and confused, I stumbled out of the car...
...into the brilliant sunlight...
...and then, looking over to the other side, I saw Sam scrambling out of it...
...and, dazed, I staggered over to where she stood.
Rick leaned into the front of the car and began searching inside his jacket, which was lying on the front seat. Moments later, he emerged and handed me a sealed envelope, saying, "Here. Give this to the front desk clerk. I'll bring your bags in."
Certain that I was hallucinating, I just continued to stand there, envelope in hand, staring like an idiot until, finally, Sam grabbed my arm.
"Come on, Carls, let's go," she directed, dragging me in the direction of the entrance...
...then through its front doors...
...and up to the Check-In desk.
When it was our turn, I, still unable to process what was happening, mumbled a return 'Good morning' to the gentleman behind the counter, and handed him the envelope, as directed...
...then turned my attention to Sam, who was staring in slack-jawed delight around the nineteenth century hotel's massive, high-ceilinged, elegant lobby...
...all carved dark wood, brass, and class.
"Wow! Look at this place!" she gasped...
...and, nodding, I turned turned back to the clerk, who was staring at his computer screen and saying, "Ah yes...Miss Carly Shay and guest...five days and four nights."
"That's right," I heard Rick say, from somewhere behind me, and, stunned by this new revelation, I turned to face him...
...as he added, "I'll meet you right here Friday morning, at 9 a.m, and drive you both back to Seattle."
Still stupefied, I merely nodded.
"Here are your three bags," he added...
...and, suddenly, I (sort of) woke up.
"Three bags?" I asked. "I only brought two."
"Yes," Rick agreed, "I have your two right here...and your friend's bag as well."
At this, I looked over at Sam, who was looking at the floor.
"Uh, that's not mine," she said...
...and, following her line of vision, I watched as Rick knelt down, glanced at the luggage tag on the large, British tan leather suitcase, and then looked up at her.
"You are Sam Puckett?" he asked.
"Yes, I am but that's not my-"
"Hey! That's one of Grandad's suitcases!" I said, suddenly recognizing it.
"Mr. Shay dropped it off when he was making arrangements for your trip...and he said it belongs to you," Rick said, directing his comment to Sam.
Leaning over, I grabbed the tag and looked at it closely...
...and there was no mistaking Grandad's handwriting.
"I...don't know what this means," I said to her as I straightened back up, "but I guess...he wants you to have it."
Clearly as confused as I was, she didn't reply.
"Can I do anything else for you ladies?" Rick asked.
"No, thanks," I mumbled. "I think we have everyth-
Suddenly, Sam nudged me in the ribs.
"The tip, Carls!" she whispered.
Still in a daze, I shoved my handbag over at her, mumbling, "Take care of it for me?"
She did, and, after saying goodbye to Rick, I turned my attention to the smartly-uniformed bellman who was loading our suitcases onto his cart...
...and then leading us over to the elevator...
...and then down the hallway of the nineteenth floor...
...and then opening the door to our room...
...and then, as he was setting our suitcases on the king-sized bed...
...I finally woke up...
...and squealed.
"Sam! Can you believe-"
"The tip, Carls," she interrupted...
...and, once again, I shoved my handbag in her direction.
As soon as the door closed behind us, I began tearing around the place in circles.
"Sam, look at the size of this room! And these floor-to-ceiling windows! And this ocean view! And that huge marble bathtub!"
"And NO mini bar full of snacks; what a ripoff!" Sam yelled at the floor.
Shoving our suitcases to one side, she sat down on the bed and I tumbled down beside her, gasping, "I can't believe this! Grandad...he...he's sent us on a nearly week-long-"
"I know, Carls!" she exclaimed. "It's so great!"
"I'm surprised he gave you one of his suitcases, though," I added. "That's part of a five-piece set of very expensive luggage."
She looked thoughtful for a moment, and then shrugged, stating, "Well, I guess he realized that I won't have anything to carry all the new clothes you're gonna buy-" Suddenly, she stopped speaking and looked over at me...
...apologetically...
...but I spoke up quickly, "Don't worry...you can't stay here a week without...of course I'm going to buy you some clothes!"
Turning her attention back to Grandad's...I mean to her suitcase, Sam dragged it toward herself and unzipped it, saying, "This is really nice; it's roomy enough for a week's worth of clothes, and a whole lotta souveni-"
Suddenly, silence.
She had stopped speaking...
...and then, as I looked on in confusion, she reached inside the suitcase and pulled out a huge, padded, manila envelope.
"What's that?" I asked.
"No idea," she replied, turning it over and examining both sides, then adding, "There's nothing written on it, but it feels like there's something inside." Plunging her hand into it, she pulled out a long, smaller envelope...
...and, once again, I recognized Grandad's personal stationery.
"It...has my name on it," Sam said slowly.
"Well, open it!" I urged
With a nod, she worked her right index finger under the flap, ripped it from end to end, and then drew out a piece of letterhead that had been folded into thirds. As I watched, she opened it...and then gasped loudly...
...her eyes no longer on the paper itself...
...but on the shower of hundred-dollar bills that had just fallen in her lap.
"C-c-carls!" Was all she could say.
As for me, I was incapable of saying anything at all...
...but could only sit there, completely shocked, watching as she scooped the money up with trembling hands and then counted it...
...twice.
"F-f-fifteen hundred bucks! Carls, there's f-fifteen hundred bucks here!" she gasped.
"Impossible!" I declared, despite all the visual evidence to the contrary. Still, after counting it myself-twice-I was forced to admit that she was right.
Still completely stunned, I looked back over at Sam, who was now staring at the sheet of letterhead that the money had been wrapped in.
"What does it say?" I managed to get out...
...and, slowly, Sam turned it around until it was facing me...
...and I saw what he had written under his neat, navy blue monogram.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
I opened my mouth to speak, then promptly shut it again.
"What, Carls?" she asked.
I shook my head.
"Go ahead; what were you gonna say?" she persisted.
"Uh...I was just thinking that $1,500 is incredibly generous...even for Grandad...and especially for just mowing the lawn...especially...since...since he..."
"Since he hates my guts," Sam answered matter-of-factly, adding, "He...must have been mistaken; being so upset, he probably thought he was giving me fives...or maybe tens, instead of hundreds."
I'm shocked that he even gave you a dime, I thought, holding the money out to her...
...but she didn't notice that I had...
...because she had just picked up the large manila envelope again and was now looking at it closely.
"I think...it feels like there's something else in here," she announced...
...then promptly slid her hand back into it...
...and pulled out a second, identical, cream-colored envelope.
We both stared at it for a long moment.
"It's...this one's yours; it has your name on it," she said, handing it to me...
...and I took it from her, ripped it open with trembling hands, and pulled out two sheets of paper, which had been folded together...
...not Grandad's heavy, elegant stationery, but thinner, white paper.
Fax paper.
I turned to Sam, who looked every bit as mystified as I was...
...and, as I unfolded them, I noticed that the top page's original document was a newspaper clipping, which had been taped to a sheet of lined notebook paper and then faxed.
The headline showed that it was an article from the Atlantic City Herald, and it was dated from four days ago.
Sam scooted closer to me on the bed, then we both bent over the page and read:
ARREST MADE IN STING OF CONDO ROBBERIES
Ventnor City police have arrested and charged a man in connection with a series of robberies committed in the apartment complex where he worked. Jeffrey Harris, 36, faces seven charges of robbery, committed at the Vassar Tower Condominiums, where he was, up until his arrest, employed as a front desk manager.
According to police, Harris, upon targeting each apartment, would first disconnect that floor's hallway security camera, and then pick the front door lock while the tenants were at work. Police speculate that the suspect managed to commit multiple robberies before being caught because, when victims complained to him that they had been robbed, he would immediately advise them not to call the police, citing various reasons why they shouldn't.
The last three victims refused to comply.
A search warrant was obtained, and a search of Harris's apartment turned up an assortment of valuable items, stolen from his victims...including a number of expensive wristwatches, several pieces of gold-and-diamond jewelry, three laptop computers, four digital cameras, a locked fireproof box...
Sam and I stopped reading, and looked up at each other...
...because the words "locked fireproof box" had been circled...by hand..before the page had been faxed.
"Spencer...got his box back," Sam announced...
...and then, we turned our attention back to the page...
…where Spencer had written at the bottom, in his unmistakeable scrawl:
I haven't said anything to Carly; I know you'll want to tell her yourself.
And then, before even looking at the second piece of paper...
...I knew what I was going to find.
It was, like the first page, a fax; but in this case the original had been written on official U.S. Military letterhead...
...underneath which my father had written, in his neat, scholarly penmanship:
14 April
Dear Dad,
I just heard the news about Spencer's new 'summer job', and I'm sure you're every bit as proud of him as I am.
Immediately after telling me, Spencer asked, since he's going to be in Atlantic City for three months, if Carly could spend the summer there, rather than with you.
At first I was somewhat hesitant; but he assures me that she'll be bringing her friend Sam Puckett along, and that they both will be working full-time. In addition, he's going to require that they call him every morning and afternoon, to check in, while he's at the construction site; and that both of them will be on a strict 10 pm curfew which, if they break even once, will result in him putting them on the first plane to Yakima. Also, he says that Carly will be calling you twice a week, to check in.
He also assures me that, before Carly and Sam leave Seattle, they will be made very, very aware of these rules and the consequences of breaking them; and, in light of this information, I fully give my consent.
Sorry to cut this short, but the sub is heading back out in less than an hour; I hope this letter finds you well.
Hastily yours,
Steven
Sam pointed to the top, right-hand corner of the page.
"Look at the time stamp...it was sent less than an hour before you found him in his office."
I nodded.
"That's why he let you leave, Carls," she continued, "not because Mrs. L. dumped him."
"I know," I agreed, "...and now he-"
I stopped speaking...
...suddenly both hurt and furious that I was finding out this way.
"I can't believe this!" I yelled. "Why didn't he just tell me...to my face? Why was he too chicken to admit that he was wrong...or to apologize...or to drive us home himsel-no...wait! That's not it!"
I stopped speaking again, and then...
...I tried to figure it out...
...properly.
After considering the situation, again, I continued, "No...I-I've...I've seen him apologize to people before, so...so that's not it..."
I pressed my palms against my face, thinking hard. I had been wrong about so many things these past few weeks; and so, I was determined to get this one right.
Sam sat next to me, not speaking, while I reasoned it out, carefully assessing the situation from all directions...
...and, less than five minutes later, I had my answer.
Looking back up at Sam, I said, "Remember when you told me that Grandad was afraid that I meant what I said...you know, that I hate him...among other things?"
She nodded.
"Well," I continued, speaking slowly, deliberately, and thoughtfully, "now that he's found out I wasn't lying to him, he's convinced of it. He's convinced that, after forbidding me to go to A.C. and keeping me away from you all summer and making my life a living hell, that I'll never forgive him now...and that I'll never speak to him again; and...and sending us on this trip is his way of letting me know that he understands..."
My voice trailed off.
"It does look that way, Carls," Sam agreed.
"He thinks that's the way things are now...and that it was completely his fault...but it wasn't!" I exclaimed suddenly. "What happened between us wasn't just because of him! It was just as much my fault!"
"Well..." Sam answered, in a very non-commital way. It was obvious that she didn't fully agree.
"No!" I shouted. "It was my fault, too! When Spencer told me he'd been robbed, I should have insisted that he call the police...right then and there...because then there would have at least been a copy of the police report to show Grandad...and, after reading it, maybe he wouldn't have believed I was lying...but instead, I was so stupid that I flipped out on him...and said the most horrible things...and broke his...and then all of this happened...and now, he thinks...he...thinks..."
My voice trailed off...
...as, finally, it hit me. I'd actually found the last piece of the puzzle...
...and, looking back over at Sam, I added, "I...I think that...this is his final test. He knows that if...he doesn't hear from me..."
I didn't have to think it over for long...
...and, seconds later, with no idea of what I was going to say to him...or how to say it...I was fumbling in my bag for my phone.
My hands shaking, I dialed his number.
He answered on the fourth ring.
"Hello?"
"Grandad," I blurted out, "it's me! I'm so very-I don't know how to thank-there are so many things I want to say right now!"
"It's not necessary," he said, with a slight-but unmistakeable-catch in his voice, "none of it is...so, just...just enjoy your trip."
"I can't!" I wailed. "Not until...not until we...until I...Grandad, please! I know you blame yourself, for everything that happened...but it was every bit as much my fault! I never should have said the things I did! I didn't mean it...not any of it! I don't hate you...I couldn't! And I don't want things between us to be this way; I just want us to...to somehow fix this! I won't be able to enjoy this trip...or anything else...until we do!"
"I didn't think you'd have anything at all to say to me," he answered, "...not anymore."
"How can you even say that? I just want you to know that I...but...I...I don't want to do it this way, not over the phone...so, can I see you when I get back from Ocean Shores? Please?"
"Are you...sure that's what you want?" he replied slowly.
"Yes! I have to see you, because I need to-"
"No, Carly," he interrupted," you're not the one who needs to-"
"Yes, I do!" I insisted. "Rick the limo driver said we'll be headed back to Seattle at 9 on Friday morning, which means I should be home around noon, so can I take a bus down to Yakima and meet you later that afternoon?"
"That's not necessary," he replied. "I'll come up to Seattle, if you're sure that's what you really want."
"I do! So please, promise me that you'll-oh, wait, Sam wants to talk to you," I said, putting the phone into her outstretched hand.
"Mr. Shay," she said, "first of all, thank you for being so generous, but I...think you made a mistake, because...you uh, you gave me...what? Are you sure? Oh, I see." Suddenly, her eyebrows shot up. "Is everything...okay?" She was silent for nearly half a minute, then said, "Okay. You will? Well, thanks again..."
She handed the phone back to me and I clapped it to my ear.
"Grandad?"
"He hung up," she announced.
"What?" I gasped. "Why would he do that? And what did he say to you?"
"Uh, his exact words were, "I know exactly how much I gave you, and I have to go now, because I canceled brunch with Mrs. Lippincott yesterday, to make arrangements for your trip, and she's a little put out about it.'"
"He actually told you that?" I asked, incredulous.
"Yes."
"What did he say then...about why he gave you so much money?"
"He didn't say why," she answered.
"Well then, what did he say?"
"He said, 'Tell Carly I'll be there when she gets home on Friday.' He started to say something else, but then I heard a car door slam and Mrs. L. saying, 'Well, it's about time you got here!' That's when he hung up."
"That's why she was so pissed at him?" I said. "For canceling brunch? Then I guess...I guess they didn't break up after all."
"It doesn't doesn't look like it," Sam agreed...
...the frustration and disgust on her face mirroring my own...
...but I soon stopped thinking about that...
...because, at that moment, it finally hit me. My seemingly-endless nightmare was now over...
...and I could now put the past four months behind me...forever. I was now officially free of Yakima...
...and, in less than a week, Grandad and I were going to resolve what had happened between us...
...and now I was, thanks to him, in a spacious and opulent hotel room...
...sitting next to the girl I love...
...and we were completely alone!
And, suddenly-and fully-aware of all that it meant...
...I lunged forward and tackled Sam backwards onto the bed.
"It's over! This whole nightmare is over and everything is is okay now!" I shouted triumphantly, smiling at her expression of surprise, brought on by my sudden and unexpected attack.
Unable to say anything else, I fell down on top of her, becoming even more rapturously incapable of speech as I felt her arms wrap around my back...
...as I lay there in her embrace, immediately making a (very long) mental list of every single thing I was about to do to her...
...soon realizing, however, that the very first item on my itinerary was-unfortunately-a desperately needed trip to the bathroom.
Raising myself up on my elbows I looked down at her.
"Sam, I absolutely have to pee, right now, or I'm going to explode."
"Eww, gross!" she exclaimed, immediately trying to slide out from under me, but finding herself unable to, due to my imprisoning arms on either side of her.
"No! That's not what I meant!" I assured her. "I'm just gonna run to the bathroom...and I'll be right back...and until then, I forbid you to move from this spot...do you hear me?"
Not hanging around to hear her answer (my bladder wouldn't let me), I leaned down, planted a fast-yet passionate-kiss on her lips, and then I hopped off the bed and hurried toward the bathroom...
...but then, despite the very real risk of peeing my pants, I stopped as I passed the windows...
...finding myself riveted to the spot by the absolutely stunning view from up here on the nineteenth floor. Since it was late morning, the sun was already high in the sky...
...stretching its light lazily across the wide expanse of crystal blue ocean...
...while the breakers spilled, rhythmically, up onto the broad, sandy beach...
...whose opposite edge beckoned from the street below in a most inviting way...
...and then, looking back at all that water, I realized...
...that if I didn't pee right then and there...I was gonna pee right then and there! So, I ran at breakneck speed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.
I made it just in time
After draining what felt like enough urine to fill an Olympic-size swimming pool, I hurried over to the sink, where I stood, washing my hands and staring out the bathroom window, back out over the beach. Due to this window's smaller size, the view from here wasn't quite as sweeping, but it was every bit as thrilling. The sun was still shining, I would soon fix my huge problem with Grandad, and now I was able, with his permission(!), to be with Sam again...
...just the two of us...
...for five whole days, with nothing to do but to enjoy ourselves...
...and each other.
Finally able, with no fear of anyone bursting in on us, to take her face between my hands...
...and to tell her how much I love her...
...and how, while we were apart, I was thinking about her constantly...
...and missing her terribly...
...crying almost every night, because I couldn't kiss her...
...and because I wanted-and needed-to be with her...so badly! And then, after I had told her all of this, to hold her, feeling her in my arms...and myself in hers...for the longest time...
...until, sensing that she wanted what I did, to pull her shoes off, and then my own...
...and then to push her gently back onto the bed...
...and to climb on top of her...
...gasping softly as I felt her pull my body down onto her own.
We'd spend the entire afternoon lying there, together...
...holding each other and reassuring each other...in low, loving voices...
...and there would be no fear, no apprehension, no rush. We'd take our time...
...and I'd make very sure she understood that I was okay with it now...
...with all of it...
...until, finally, I'd look down into her eyes...
...and nod...
...and allow her to turn me over onto my back ...
...and to pull my shirt up and off...
...and then to pull my shorts down and off ...
...before she removed my bra...leaving me lying under her, warm and weak, wearing only my panties...
...vulnerable, unable to move, due to my longing-no, my aching for her.
And then, reaching up, I'd undress her, taking my time, until she, too, was nearly naked...
...and then, I'd pull her down on top of me and we'd just lie there, for hours on end, entangled in each others' arms, locked at the lips, lost in each other...
...until, finally, she'd slide her body sideways, off of mine and, breathing rapidly and shallowly, she'd slowly trail her hand down my stomach...
...until I, absolutely unable to wait another minute, would beg her to be with me...
...and in me...
...because every inch of me was aching so badly...
...soon realizing that I didn't need to beg...
...because I'd feel her fingers sliding under the waistband of my panties...
...and then inching downward...
...farther and farther...
...their tips gently probing...
...and exploring...
...and...
...and
...and what the hell am I doing?
What's wrong with me? How long have I been standing here...daydreaming?
When the real thing is waiting in the next room?
I shook my head vigorously to clear it and then, looking down, I saw that the bar of soap had turned into a huge ball of mush in my hands.
Sam must be wondering what's taking me so long! I thought, hurriedly rinsing my hands and drying them, before turning and rushing toward the door...
...but then, halfway across the room, I stopped in my tracks...
...and, seconds later, I turned around and headed, deliberately, back to the sink...
...realizing that, after that incredibly delicious, incredibly greasy breakfast, my breath might be, uh, somewhat less than kissably fresh. After all, there had been sauteed onions in those home fries! And so, not wanting to risk offending Sam with possible 'death breath', I grabbed one the complimentary bottles of mint-flavored mouthwash from the vanity and gargled thoroughly...
...twice...
...swishing it around vigorously, making sure I hit every single crevice of my mouth.
Ahhh, yes. Much better.
I looked down at my watch. Sam hasn't come in here to check on me; so I'll bet she's fallen asleep, I thought with a smile, as I headed-now minty fresh and confident-back toward the bathroom door; planning to tiptoe over to the bed and to wake her up with at least a dozen strategically-planted kisses...
...before falling into her outstretched arms...
...and making the fantasy I'd just indulged in an absolute reality, I mused...
...gasping softly, as I felt a powerful, clenching sensation in my lower abdomen at the mere thought of it.
I stopped where I was standing and, hand on doorknob, I closed my eyes...picturing it again...
...while feeling another contraction, just as strong as the first...
...which was soon followed by several more...
...as I pictured Sam's naked body pressed against my own, for the first time...
...while I lay under her, unable to move, utterly paralyzed by my overwhelmingly-painful need for her...
...crippled almost to tears by the agony of it...
...and crying anyway, knowing that the release I so desperately needed was now only minutes away, as she reached down and slowly spread my legs apart...
...and how it would feel when she touched me...there...for the first time...and how incredible it would be when, eventually, she released me, forever, from this cruel prison of incessant deprivation.
At that moment, I shifted where I stood, as another thrilling contraction rippled through me, and suddenly aware that my vulva was becoming very, very swollen, as its nerve endings became increasingly engorged...
...and I imagined how much more sensitive it was going to be, in just a short while, when Sam's gently probing fingers finally found it.
I stood there, picturing all of it, while gasping softly at the sharp, irregular contractions that were taking place, with increasing frequency, in the lowest part of my stomach...
...and also between my legs...
...as I realized what was about to happen...
...with her...
...and less than a minute later, I found myself blushing...
...realizing that, due to my extreme arousal, I had become so wet that I was beginning to leak into my panties.
Now breathing shallowly and rapidly, I opened my eyes again.
It was time.
It was time for her to release me...
...to heal me from the seemingly endless torture I'd endured for the past four months.
I was now going to give myself to Sam...
...not just physically, but completely.
I took a deeper, yet jagged breath...
...and then, bursting with anticipation, and absolutely aching for release, I opened the bedroom door and looked longingly across the room...
...to see Sam...
...not where I'd left her, lying on her back and ready to be loved...
...but sitting on the edge of the bed, with her back to me and her face in her hands.
Walking over quickly, I stopped in front of her, asking, "Hey, are you...is everything okay?"
Not looking up at me, she shook her head.
"Are you feeling sick?"
No response.
And, feeling a jolt of apprehension shoot through me, I took a step forward and asked, "What is it?"
Without looking up at me, she shook her head again...
...and, sure that I'd figured it out, I said, "Look, Sam, if it's about what happened between Grandad and me...everything is okay now...well, not yet...but it will be by Friday evening."
She didn't answer, so I added, quickly, "I know you didn't hear his side of the conversation...but he wants to make things up with me...just as much as I do! So, when we get home on Friday, right after...well, I know you'll want to thank him for the money...and then I'm going to ask you to head over to your own place, just for one afternoon, so I can have some time alone with him, just the two of us. And then, he and I will talk over what happened...all of it...face to face...like two mature adults; and we'll both apologize, and forgive each other...and then everything will be okay, see?"
Instead of agreeing, she shook her head again...even more vigorously.
"Of course everything will be okay!" I replied, now beginning to panic. "If it wasn't, he wouldn't have sent me here...with you...or given you that very generous gift...which I still don't understand at all...but at least it shows that he doesn't, uh, dislike you anymore."
No answer.
Suddenly, another possible reason for her distress occurred to me, and, laying a hand on her shoulder, I said, "Sam? Is it about what I said in the limo? Are you...are you upset that I'm not going to tell him about us...you know, that you and I are...together? Is that it?"
She shook her head.
"No? Then what else could possibly...then everything is okay now, see?" I insisted, fighting hard against the rapidly-mounting panic that was now threatening to overwhelm me.
At this, she finally raised her head.
"No, Carls!" she blurted out, looking near tears. It's not okay!"
"Sam! What's wrong? Everything was...fine, just a few minutes ago! What just happened to make you so...what is it?" I asked, now flat-out scared at the way she was acting...
...because, after failing to guess what was upsetting her, twice, it now seemed that there could be only one other reason.
One that would kill me.
"Of course its okay!" I repeated, trying-to reassure her...and myself.
"No, it's not...it's never gonna be okay again!" she wailed.
Now literally shaking with fear, I replied, "I...don't know what you mean by th-"
"Don't you see?" she answered, "You've been blaming yourself for everything that's happened up 'til now; but it's not your fault...not yours...not your grandad's...but mine!"
"No, it's not...and that's all going to be fixed," I answered earnestly, "by the end of this wee-"
"No!" she interrupted, "That's not what I mean! It's never going to be okay again, because...because we both still have this horrible curse hanging over us! And it's all my fault! I've ruined both of our lives, forever, because I was so incredibly stup-"
"Stop that!" I shouted, now very aware of why she was so upset. "You had no way of knowing what was going to happen when you picked up that shrunken head; and...even though you and I have...well, have had some...problems...now they're going to be-"
"Some problems?" she asked, incredulously. "Some problems? You know as well as I do that they were only the beginning of our problems...the first of many more!"
"You can't know that!" I argued
"I do know it!" she shouted. "We're cursed...both of us...for the rest of our lives! All because of me being so stup-..."
"Stop saying that! Sam, what just happened while I was in the bathroom? I don't understand why you're suddenly so...I mean, all of those things are in the past now!"
"And...when they happen again?" she demanded.
"They won't!" I insisted. "They're in the past!"
"But something else will...something just as bad...or even worse!" she shouted.
"It...it won't!" I repeated...
...despite now realizing-deep down-that she was absolutely right. We both were cursed...
...and what we'd already been through was, doubtlessly, only the beginning...
...but I wasn't about to admit it.
"It...won't," I repeated lamely.
"Oh, yes it will!" she yelled. "How many times have you and I made huge mistakes, all because we wished for something...and half the time we didn't even realize that we were wish-"
"It's going to be okay...from now on, we'll just be really, really careful," I replied, laying a hand on her shoulder.
"No it won't!" she said, inadvertently shaking it off as she jumped up off the bed.
Immediately, I got to my feet, grabbed her, and turned her around to face me...
...immediately wrapping my arms around her, as she leaned forward and buried her face in my shoulder. Her whole body was shaking...but at least she wasn't crying.
"It's going to be okay, now," I said in a low, calm voice. "All of it."
She shook her head.
I pulled her as close to me as I could, saying, "Sam, listen to me. We're in this wonderful place, just the two of us, all alone, so let's enjoy our vacation...okay? Okay, honey? Everything is going to be all right now."
At this, she shook her head violently, untangled herself from my arms, and then walked across the room, where she stood with her back to me; and, leaning her forehead against the far wall, she said, in the most heart-breaking tone of voice I've ever heard from her, "Carls, I'm so s-sorry! I'd give anything to be able to take back what happened...but I can't!"
And then, as I stood there, despairing, with absolutely no idea how to console her, I opened my fat mouth and, without thinking said, "I do, too...but it was just as much my fault...and, not even for my sake but for yours, I wish that we were rid of this curs-"
Before I'd even finished the sentence, she spun around, clearly horrified...
...just as I clapped my hand over my mouth...
...but it was too late...
...and in three swift strides, she had crossed the room.
"What the hell did you just do?" she shouted. "What the hell...you said that we were going to be careful!"
"I...I...well, Mr. Oswell said that unselfish wishes were the ones that are most often granted," I replied casually, trying to play it off like I'd just wished deliberately.
I doubt that she bought it, because she yelled, "Don't you remember that I was being unselfish when I wished for Spencer to get a Mercedes...and look what happened!"
Thinking quickly, I replied, "What happened is that Spencer got a fantastic new job, probably the first one of many, and-"
"Oh, God! Oh, God, we're so screwed!" she moaned. "Carls...I can't believe what you...what you've just-"
Suddenly, she stopped speaking. I have no idea if it was because she didn't want to make me feel worse than I already did (if that were possible(!), or if she was shocked speechless, from all of the horrible potential scenarios that were now doubtlessly thundering through her mind.
She sank back down onto the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands...
...while I stood there, kicking myself-over and over-for not thinking...
...again...
...knowing that, because I had just been so incredibly stupid, we were soon going to be punished...severely.
Both of us.
I forcibly pushed this realization out of my mind. It didn't mat-well, it did...but what was important right now was that Sam and I were back together...
...which meant that, no matter what horrible thing(s) were now in store for us, we'd be able to face them and handle them...together. But then, my thoughts turned back to stupidity...
...not Sam's, but my own...
...and I silently berated myself for having wasted so much time in the bathroom, daydreaming...
...leaving her lying here, all alone, with all that time to reflect on (and become highly upset at) everything that we'd just been through.
With a long, shaky sigh, I turned back to Sam...
...whose vacation-and possibly whose life-I'd just ruined...
...and, after spending several minutes thinking the entire thing through, I finally managed to come to one solid conclusion.
We both needed release.
Right now.
Desperately.
And there was only one thing that could possibly relieve all of this unbearable angst...
...and it involved two girls...
...and no clothes.
But, as badly as my own body was screaming for orgasm, I was well aware that I'd just hurt her...
...profoundly...
...and so, despite my own, overwhelming needs, I decided that I was going to let her be 'first.'
Taking a deep breath, I reached down and lay my hands on her shoulders.
"Listen," I said, "it's been almost six hours since we left Grandad's house, so I know you have to pee. Go take care of that, and then wash your face and hands; I know you'll feel better, and then, when you come back out here, I'll bet I can dream up any number of ways to make you forget everything that just happened."
Eyes on the floor, she didn't respond, so I gently slid my hands up under her arms and pulled her-unresisting-to her feet, then looked into her face saying, "Come on. Don't worry; everything is going to work-"
Without waiting to hear the rest, she sadly turned away from me and walked toward the bathroom ...
...while I-now determined to make us both forget what had just happened-kicked my shoes off and fell backward onto the bed.
Ahhh! What an excellent mattress! Perfect for lounging...and for sleeping...
...and for a whole lot more!
I sprawled out lazily in all directions, sinking into it, while shivering at the realization that, in just a few short minutes, Sam would be in my arms...right here...and I would make sure that I corrected, repeatedly, what I'd just done to her.
And, I thought, since after what I just did, she needs 'help' right now...even worse than I do...
...I'll focus only on her needs...
...as I hold her in my arms...
...pulling her so close to me...
...while running one hand through her hair and telling her how much I love her...
...and how sorry I am...not only for what just happened...
...but for making her wait for this...for such a long time...
...much, much longer than she should have had to...
...and that, right now, I'm going to make it up to her...
...over and over.
Seconds later, she'll raise her head and look down at me...
...her eyes so full of desperate longing and hope...
...which will then turn to surprise...
...as I gently turn her over onto her back. And then, I'll smile down at her, in the most reassuring way, and she'll nod and pull my body down onto hers...
...holding onto me so tightly...
...while I, once again, run my hands, softly, caressingly, through her hair...
...and down along her arms...
...until, finally, I'll hear the change in her breathing...
...and in her heartbeat...
...and, knowing that she's ready, and that she wants me to do what I want to do...
...every bit as badly as I want to do it...
...I'll whisper in her ear, "It's time."
And then, as she lay there under me, trembling...
...aching...
...I'll undress her slowly...
...while kissing her, non-stop, until, unable to wait another minute, I'll trail my hand down her lower abdomen...
...but will, seconds later, find myself lying on my back, unresisting, as she undresses me. And then, oh, God...I so desperately need to feel her hands on my body...right now...that I don't know if I'll be able to-
The sound of the bathroom door opening forced me back to the present; and, turning my head to the left on my pillow, I saw Sam, still looking as upset as ever, walking back into the bedroom.
I smiled at her from where I lay, saying, "Come over here, honey, and we'll-no wait! Before you do, go look out the windows. That view is so incredibly beautiful that I guarantee it'll cheer you up!"
I expected her to ignore me, or to say that she wasn't in the mood...
but instead she nodded sadly, turned obediently in that direction, and stepped over to the window farthest from the bed, where she stood, looking out.
After nearly a full minute of silence, I asked, "Well, what do you see?"
She stared for another long moment, then shrugged and replied, "Um, it's a really nice day...I guess."
"Yes," I agreed, "it is really nice...and what else?"
"The ocean...looks beautiful," she added, half-heartedly..
"And?" I urged gently.
"And, uh, the beach looks clean...and not too crowded."
"You're right," I agreed, "it is a lovely beach...and?"
Silence.
She looked like she had run out of things to say...
...but, just as I was about to suggest that she come over to the bed...
...and into my aching arms...
...she added,"And we're so high up that the cars down there on the street don't even look real, more like toy cars...and...and..."
I waited for her to finish, but she just stood there, not speaking, so I prompted, "And...what?"...
...but there was no answer...
...but I did hear a loud, slapping/banging sound, as, suddenly, her forehead and palms made contact with the window...
...and she slid down it, until she was on her knees.
"Sam! What's wrong? Are you...are you sick?" I asked, now thoroughly alarmed, and unable to see her face because she was looking, not at me, but downward...
...and then, suddenly, I heard a loud gasp.
"It...it can't be!" she exclaimed.
"What...can't be what?" I asked. "What happened? Is there a car crash down there?"
No answer.
But, seconds later, she was on her feet and turned away from window...but her eyes still weren't on me.
They were on the door...
...and, suddenly, she was running toward it.
In an instant, I was on my feet.
"Sam! Where are you going?"
"I'll...be right back!" she replied, swinging the door open.
"No, wait!" I protested. "Let me put my shoes on, and then we can go togeth-"
"No, Carls!"
"But-" was as far as I got...
...before she ran over to the bed.
"No! don't move from this spot...I forbid it!" she demanded, putting both her hands on my shoulders and pushing me back down onto my back...
...and then, without another word, she tore out of the room...
...while I thoroughly confused, lay there, as instructed, staring at the closed door.
What the hell was that all about? What did she see...and why wouldn't she let me go outside with her?
At least fifteen minutes elapsed, at a snail's pace, while I lay waiting, confused and frustrated...
...but finally, she flung the door open and burst into the room.
"Carls...put your shoes on!"
I struggled up into a seated position.
"What's going on...and what's that?" I asked, pointing to the small, white object that she was hastily sliding into the back pocket of her shorts.
Instead of answering me, she ran to the middle of the room, where she began pacing back and forth...rapidly...mumbling to herself, "It's going to work! It's going to! I know it will!"
After nearly two minutes of this, frustration got the better of me.
"Sam! What are you talking about?" I demanded...
...and, remembering that I was still in the room, she stopped in her tracks, then ran over to where I still sat, shouting, "I...I've got it! Carls, I've got it!"
"You've...got what?" I yelled, now way past frustrated.
"I...think I've...figured out how to get rid of the curse!" she answered, in a weird, constricted voice.
Remembering the specifics of my unintended wish, I asked, "My curse...or yours?"
"Maybe mine...maybe yours...maybe both!" she answered quickly. "I...I don't know, but I hope so!"
"Where were you just now?" I demanded. "What made you run out of the roo-wait! When you went outside, you saw, oh, my God! Did you see Mr. Oswell?"
"I-"
I reached up and grabbed her arms.
"Did you, Sam? Did you see him? Because, if you did-"
"No. I didn't."
"Are you sure?" I urged, "because, if you did-"
"I didn't-"
"Well then, you thought you saw him...or someone who looks like him...but you're not sure, so-"
"No, nothing like that. I didn't see him...or anyone who looked like him," she answered with finality.
"Well...you had to have seen something!" I persisted. "Wait! I know! You saw a circus tent that looked just like his! They're setting up a tent near the hotel...and now you want me to go with you, so we can look for him! That's what happened, isn't it?"
"No, it's not that-"
"No, wait!" I interrupted. "You mentioned cars! Did you...did you see a truck, or a van, that had the words Oswell's Oddities on it?'"
"No," she replied, "this isn't about him...at all. It...it's...something else."
"What, then? Sam, tell me!" I urged...
...but instead of answering, she dropped to her knees in front of me and began putting my sneakers on my feet and tying them rapidly.
"Are you going to tell me or not?" I demanded, looking down at her.
"Later," she answered distractedly, focused on what she was doing. "We've got to get started on-"
"Started on what?" I demanded, standing up and grabbing my handbag...
...which, jumping to her feet, she promptly took from my hand, while stating, "No. No handbags...or backpacks."
"But...but I'm going to need my money!" I protested.
"Okay, fine," she agreed, jamming her hand into my bag, fishing my wallet out, reaching around behind me, and shoving it into my back pocket.
"There," she said, "now let's go!"
And, before I could question her further she grabbed my arm, and then rushed out of the hotel room, slamming the door behind us.